Ninjas Cry Too
by Ryn11
Summary: Post-Somalia. She's back home and she's safe, so why can't she just get over it? If the "past is the past," why is she knee deep in memories and sinking fast? Lucky for her she has a group of amazing friends who are willing to help her through it, if only she'll let them. Rated T just to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: No matter how many times i wish it, I will never own NCIS.**

She would always remember that elevator ride, she knew it the second she stepped into the stupid metal box. Gibbs was standing to her left, Tony and McGee to her right. Her back was turned, but the way the hairs on the back of her neck prickled told her that they were all staring at her. She shifted uncomfortably. The shirt Tony had let her borrow was rubbing uncomfortably on one of the burns across her shoulders and her feet hurt from the shoes she'd become so unaccustomed to wearing. She bitterly marvelled at how she managed to survive three months in a terrorist camp, but was now whinging about the most menial things. She'd gotten soft somewhere along the line, which was ironic considering her father had drilled it into her from a very young age that suffering made you strong. Then again, she'd realised lately that most of what her father had told her was riddled with lies.

"Ziva," Gibbs murmured, jolting her out of her own head. She looked up and realised with a start that the elevator doors had opened and she was staring at all twenty of the Naval criminal investigative service's D.C office's full time employees. Her eyes travelled over Dolores from accounting, Mail Room Malcom and Agent Dornigate before coming to rest on Abby. Her dear, dear friend Abby. She had her arms wide open, a warm smile on her face. Her watery eyes weren't full of pity and she wasn't looking at her like she was some kind of victim, the only thing her dark green irises held was understanding and kindness. Not for the first time that day, Ziva felt her throat close up. She took a few wobbly steps out of the elevator and fell into Abby's arms. She didn't realise just how exhausted she truly was until the six foot tall goth's arms wrapped securely around her. Her knees sagged then gave out, however in a surprising display of strength Abby kept her from falling.

"Ziva," Abby murmured. "I missed you." A couple of the tears that had gathered in her eyes escaped and ran into Ziva's hair. They looked like drops of moonlight in the wild dark brown curls.

"I missed you too," Ziva replied, her voice hoarse from months of disuse.

"C'mon," Gibbs voice said, somewhere far, far in the distance. "Ducky's gotta give you a check up before you go anywhere." Abby gently let her go, though one arm still stayed wrapped loosely around the Israeli's shoulder. Together they shuffled back into the elevator, Gibbs on their tail. Tony and McGee tried to follow, but Gibbs gave them a look and they stopped dead. Dimly, Ziva wondered how this man had come to know her so well. He'd understood instantly that, save him who she saw as her father and Ducky who was after all a doctor, she didn't want men around her right now. The elevator shuddered to a halt again and she and Abby started again on their slow shuffle, this time to one of the cold autopsy tables. Ziva shakily sat down, giving the heartbreakingly concerned Ducky a brief smile.

"My dear Ziva," the scotsman greeted warmly. "How are you?" It was a simple question, one Ziva should have been able to answer with a simple 'fine, thank you.' But for some reason the words wouldn't pass her lips. Ducky saw her hesitation and smiled sadly.

"I'm sorry, that was a foolish question."

"No, no Ducky. Forgive me." Ziva looked down at her dangling feet. "I am... Okay."

"Okay is a great start, Ziver," Gibbs said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "No one's expecting you to be fine." Ziva clenched her teeth hard so she wouldn't do something stupid like burst into tears.

"I know that Gibbs, but I still..." she shook her head. "It does not matter. Let us get this over with, yes?" Gibbs noted the shakiness of her English, and wondered how long it had been since she last spoke it.

"Yes," Ducky said. He cleared his throat and his manner changed from caring uncle to brisk doctor. Abby and Gibbs made small talk about the weather as Ducky checked Ziva's vitals, commented on how thin she was, advised her to drink plenty of fluids and so on. Ziva sat like a rock through all of this, simply nodding or shaking her head if an answer was required.

"Take off your shirt please," Ducky said finally, snapping on some rubber gloves. Ziva bit her lip, her hands suddenly vice like on the edge of the metal table.

"That is unnecessary," she said stiffly, though she knew it was no use. "They bandaged my injures at the field hospital in Somal... In northern Africa." Her voice shook embarrassingly at the word 'Somalia' and she cursed herself silently. As she'd feared, Ducky shook his head.

"Nonsense Ziva. Those field hospitals are unreliable at best. Besides, infection could have set in between there and here."

"It does not even hurt anymore," Ziva said, hating how pleading her voice sounded. "I promise."

"My dear, I am a medical examiner," Ducky said gently. "I work with dead bodies with horrific injures every single day, I promise that whatever those bastards did to you will not phase me." Ziva nodded slowly, her grip on the table relaxing a little. She glanced at Gibbs out of the corner of her eye and he gently took Abby by the shoulders and guided her out of Autopsy. Once she was sure the doors had closed firmly behind them she took a deep breath and slipped her shirt over her head with considerable discomfit. As Ducky gently unwrapped the bandages that covered a full eighty percent of her torso she assumed a deadpan stare at the own feet. There were a couple of times when a scab ripped off along with the bandage, producing an awful stinging sensation, but she didn't shift her gaze once. Ducky wasn't sure whether to be more concerned with the severity of her injuries or her lack of reaction. His hands gently grazed across her back and she sucked in a sharp breath. It was odd to have such caring hands upon her after... Everything. Ducky tenderly wiped antiseptic over her wounds. Her back was a shade of mottled green and purple, thanks to the extensive bruising. Whip marks, vertical, horizontal and diagonal, criss crossed the skin like red rivers in the middle of a green and purple rainforest. Even for a doctor Ducky remained admirably level during the whole process, except for one moment. When he moved to her front and he noticed what marred the smooth skin of her stomach his face turned a sickening shade of grey. She blushed just a little and averted her eyes from his. Of all the marks he'd left on her body, only one made her truly ashamed. The 'S' he'd branded into her would certainly stay there forever, a constant reminder to what she had to endure.

Once Ducky had snapped out of his initial horror he noticed that Ziva was biting her lip so hard blood was trickling down her chin. He gently wiped it off then started to hum softly. It was an old tune, one his mother had sung to him when he was a lad, but it seemed to relax her none the less. He finished up her exam as quickly as possible and handed her her shirt with a smile.

"Well Miss David, apart from the obvious scar tissue you're going to make a full physical recovery."

"Thank you Ducky," Ziva said quietly, slipping the shirt back over her head.

"Now as your doctor I must inform you that the... Psychological repercussions of what you went through may be severe. I would suggest you start seeing a counsellor." Though Ziva shook her head vehemently, her eyes returning to her boots.

"Ducky," she said in a brittle tone, "I have been tortured before this and I have always recovered easily."

"While that may be true..." Ducky cupped her face in his kind hands. The gesture had a double intent, first to be comforting and second so he could see her eyes. He'd always found previously with Ziva that while her mouth and even her body language may say one thing, her eyes say the complete opposite. "I doubt very much you've been held prisoner in a terrorist camp for three months before." Ziva reached up and removed his hands from her face.

"I will be fine," she concluded firmly. Ducky ignored her words and focused purely on her eyes. They were screaming at him, at anybody, to help her.

"Ziva..."

"Thank you for your concern Doctor Mallard." With that rather final statement she rose and strode towards and through the autopsy doors. Ducky heaved a sigh and leant back on one of his table. He knew she could get over this, if only she'd let herself.

 **Hope you enjoyed! Not sure when I'll upload the next chapter, but it'll probably be soon :) Reviews make my day (not too subtle hint right there.)**


	2. Chapter 2

Ziva took the elevator back down to the squad room, her exhausted brain ticking over as she tried to formulate some kind of plan. She had no apartment, no job, the filthy clothes on her back and maybe enough cash to stay at a budget motel for a week. She was tired emotionally and physically, she was starving and she felt like she'd recently been hit by a truck. She supposed she could take a cab to a nearby navy inn and work out what to do from there, but she was hit by the realisation that she had no phone. Normally she'd use one of the ones in the squad room, but since she no longer worked at NCIS doing that seemed wrong somehow.

"Zi," a voice said. Ziva jumped about a mile; she hadn't even realised the doors to the elevator had opened. Tony was standing in front of her, lines of worry etched into his familiar face. He'd been roughed up pretty badly by Saleem and his facial bruises were causing her heart to ache with guilt.

"Tony," she said dimly. "What are you still doing here? It is very late." Tony reached out and ruffled her hair affectionately. She tried her best not to flinch at the sudden contact but by the expression he made, she could tell she had.

"Of course I'm still here, idiot. Hell, even McGoo is still here. We want to make sure you're doin' okay. You got a place to stay tonight?"

"I am working on it."

"No you're not," said a second voice. Ziva jumped again. Gibbs, McGee and Abby had materialised, all with their arms crossed firmly over their chests.

"You're staying at my place," Abby informed her. "No arguments."

Ziva sighed, running a hand through her tangled hair.

"I can take care of myself, Abby. You are very kind, but I will find my own place to stay."

"Does the phrase 'no arguments' mean anything to you?" McGee questioned, raising an eyebrow. Abby stepped forward and gently laid her hands on her shoulders.

"I know you're a super independent crazy ninja spy chick Ziva, but you've gotta let me help you out on this one." The exhausted Israeli met her friend's eyes once again. They were brimming with kindness. Ziva looked down at her boots.

"Alright," she said softly.

"Sorry this place is so messy," Abby said brightly as she opened the door to her third floor apartment. "I've been sleeping at work these past couple of days because, well you know, because." Ziva hesitantly stepped over the threshold. It was a cozy apartment, but not necessarily to the point of being claustrophobic. It smelled like the black roses Abby so loved. The walls were painted in various shades of cream and dark grey, contradicting each other like Abby's personality contradicted itself.

"It is lovely," Ziva said, giving her friend a small smile. Abby grinned toothily and took her by the hand, leading her through the living room and into the bedroom.

"You can sleep in my coffin if you'd like," she said proudly, gesturing to the richly varnished wooden box sitting on a kind of dias in the middle of the room. Ziva chuckled.

"I will be fine on the couch, Abby." The goth shook her head, flapping her arms like some ginormous bird.

"I have a blow up mattress that'll be way more comfy. You can sleep in here with me! Gibbs said..." she trailed off and clapped a hand over her mouth. Ziva frowned.

"Gibbs said?"

"Gibbs said that ah, that you wouldn't like my coffin." She looked pointedly down and to the left when she said it and Ziva gave a wry smile.

"You are a wonderful friend Abby, but a terrible liar." Abby sighed heavily, looking downcast.

"Yeah, I know. Gibbs said I had to keep an eye on you during the night, incase you get nightmares." If Ziva hadn't been so frustrated at Gibbs' overprotectiveness she might have found it rather sweet.

"I do not need a baby sitter!"

"Of course not," Abby said soothingly, "but would you please let me? Gibbs will find out if I don't and he might give me my first head-slap." Ziva pondered this for a second. She was already on the verge of agreeing when Abby made puppy dog eyes at her. Those damn eyes sent her completely over the edge.

"Very well," she said stiffly. "But I must warn you, I snore."

"I've heard," Abby giggled. She clapped her hands together, suddenly business like. "Now, Miss David, we shall embark on your night of pure relaxation. You'll start with a luxury hot shower to clean all the sand out of your various orfices. After you've dried yourself with one of my fluffy, soft whit towels we'll put on a classic disney movie, your choice obviously. After that we'll eat your pick of a selection of delectable comfort foods and finish with sleep." She took Ziva by the shoulders and guided her down onto the couch. Before she could protest Abby bent and whipped her stiff leather boots off her feet.

"You have experience at this," Ziva remarked as Abby pulled her back up and pulled the loose over shirt from her.

"Whose is this?" she asked curiously, holding the garment up. Ziva's eyes darted to her feet again and Abby gave an understanding nod.

"We can burn it later," she said cheerfully. Ziva chuckled and the goth's heart soared.

"Shower," she ordered, taking Ziva by the shoulders and propelling her towards the bathroom. She pushed Ziva in, dashed to her room and rummaged around her pyjama draw until she found some that were small enough, then dashed back to the bathroom and threw them at Ziva's feet.

"Take as long as you want," she advised as she shut the door. "I got this super new hot water plan that lets you take hour long showers." She turned her back, only to be stopped by a soft voice.

"Thank you," it said, so quietly she wasn't even sure it was real or imagined. It was almost unrecognisable as Ziva's.

"No problem," she whispered in reply, her back still turned to the door. Said door shut a moment later and Abby heard the distinctive scraping sound of the lock sliding into place.

 **Kinda a weird place to end the chapter I know, but I really wanted to update today :) Hope you enjoyed, and please leave a review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Just a quick note before you start: this story isn't going to have any particular pairings. There's Zabby romance if you want to interpret it as such, but it could also be taken as Ziva-Abby friendship. Same goes with any Tiva-ish moments in future chapters (spoilers!). Thanks and enjoy!**

With her friend in the shower scrubbing away the remnants of Somalia Abby let out a huge sigh and plopped down onto her red leather couch. Despite her calm, happy facade she was terrified. One one hand she desperately wanted Ziva to tell her what had happened in Somalia, but on the other hand she didn't want to know at all. All she was really sure of was that her friend was tired and hurting, which meant that she had a duty of care towards her. Lost in her own thoughts, she didn't realise Ziva was out of the shower until the Israeli appeared before her. Her hair was damp and lank, but at least she'd washed out the worrying dark, sticky substance that had previously been encrusted in it. The dark long sleeved shirt and checkered red pants were baggy on her, but not as baggy as what she'd been wearing previously. To say she was thin was a definite understatement, emaciated was probably more the word. If they were visible Abby could confidently say that her ribs would be sticking out of her. Ziva just stood there for awhile, clearly uncomfortable under Abby's gaze. When the goth didn't say anything she gave a weak grin.

"Your clothes smell very nice Abby, like lavender."

"Yeah," her friend replied. "It's the washing powder I use. A friend of mine makes it in a bunch of different scents."

"Who have a friend who makes... Washing powder?"

"Oh yeah," Abby said conversationally, "Well he works as a janitor at a high school, the washing powder thing is really just a hobby."

"I see." Ziva sat on the couch, apparently having exhausted her capacity for conversation. Abby yanked the throw off the back of the couch and draped it around Ziva's shoulders.

"So I'm thinking Cinderella," she said warmly. Ziva looked up at her blankly.

"For the movie, I'm thinking Cinderella. But of course, Beauty and the Beast is a classic too."

"I have not seen either of these movies before." Abby winced.

"Don't ever let Tony hear you say that, he'd kill you." Ziva averted her eyes, an action she was doing far to often for Abby's liking.

"Tony wants to kill me anyway. I betrayed him."

"Oh Ziva." Abby took her friends hand in her own. "Tony does not hate you. You should have seen what he was like when you disappeared, he was all pale and wan and his eyes were bloodshot all the time and he was there but not really there. It was scary."

"I blamed him for killing Mich... Rivkin, in cold blood Abby, when I should have been thanking him for opening my eyes. Rivkin was a puppet, controlled completely by my father." She spat the last word with so much fire Abby almost smiled; she'd thought the old Ziva had gone completely.

"You two do need to talk," she concluded. "And when you do, I'm sure you'll find that he's blaming himself as much as you're blaming yourself. Now, Cinderella?"

Abby put the movie on and the two got comfortable on the couch. However, as the opening credits started to roll Abby couldn't help but notice that Ziva wasn't watching the film. Sure, she was staring straight at the TV, but it was clear that her mind was somewhere else. The far away look in her eyes got more pronounced as the movie continued, till Abby couldn't take it anymore.

"Hey," she said sharply. Ziva jerked out of her own head and blinked a few times. "C'mere."

"What?"

"Come here." Abby patted the spot next to her. "I have to start your hug training again."

"Hug training?!"

"You know, when you first came to NCIS you got all stiff when I hugged you. You've totally relapsed, Ziva David. First lesson, if you're watching a movie with your friend you don't sit on the opposite side of the couch like you're trying to avoid her."

"Sorry," Ziva said flatly. She shuffled over next to Abby, who scoffed.

"Closer, Zi, I promise I won't bite and I showered this morning." Ziva bit her already split lip.

"Abby I do not think-" Abby rolled her eyes and pulled Ziva into her. Ziva stiffened like a board, then slowly relaxed. She'd thought that being in such close proximity to another human would be triggering at the most and uncomfortable at the least, but it was strangely nice to be enclosed in such gentle arms. As Abby turned back to the film she hesitantly laid her head on her shoulder, melting into the embrace.

"Tony's imagination would have a field day if he saw this," Ziva said, an edge of laughter in her voice. Abby shushed her, pointing to the screen.

"Shut up and watch the movie, Zi. This is my favourite part." At this Ziva smiled, her first true smile since she'd landed back on American soil. She snuggled more firmly into Abby, who's heart swelled at her friend's happiness. She looked down at her precious Ziva and her windpipe constricted. She'd thought she'd lost her fearless Israeli assassin. For some reason an image of Kate popped into her head and she felt tears prick at her eyes.

"Abby?" Ziva questioned, her voice heartbreakingly concerned. "What is wrong?"

"I thought you were dead," Abby whimpered. Tears started streaming down her cheeks and she was mortified. Usually she didn't mind crying in front of others, but in this situation, with her broken, bruised, tortured friend sitting next to her, it didn't feel right that she was crying about something so stupid. None the less, words started to spill out from her mouth without a filter.

"Kate was my best friend, y'know, and she was taken from me. When I first met you I was terrified that you were going to replace her not just at work but as my friend. You two were so different and I kind of hated you for it. But then we had that one night. You remember that? We went out for dinner because we were both bored and alone and then I went back to your place and we talked for hours and I guess it was then that I realised that you weren't just replacing Kate. Sure, you were replacing her as my best friend but you weren't replacing her. Does that make sense?" Ziva slowly nodded and she continued with her feverish little monologue.

"When you went missing I was so terrified. You wouldn't return my calls or my emails or anything and I just kept assuming the worst. Then Tony told me what had happened to the Damocles and I just... Broke down. I think I cried for about a week straight because Kate was gone and now you were gone and I felt so alone, Ziva. But now you're back from the dead and you're probably marvelling at how pathetic I am so we're just gonna forget that anything happened and go back to watching this movie." With that she snapped her eyes back to the TV. Ziva blinked a few times. Abby was right, she was marvelling at something, but it definitely wasn't how pathetic she was. It was how completely amazing she was.

"You're incredible," she murmured, so quietly Abby wasn't entirely sure it had been Ziva who had spoken, or the voices in her head.

"You're incredible too," she replied softly.

 **sorry this is kinda crappy, but hey at least it's something! I wanted to update now because I'm going away for a couple of weeks so I won't be updating for ages. Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed so far, you guys are the best! And Debbie sorry for the lack of Ziva flashbacks during the movie, but there might be some coming soon (hint hint) (if you got all the way through this boring-ass AN go get yourself a cookie or something)**


	4. Chapter 4

Half an hour later the movie ended and the end credits began to roll. Abby stood up and stretched, yawning widely.

"Alrighty," she said sleepily. "Food time. Wadda ya want?" Ziva shrugged, pulling the throw more firmly around her self to compensate for the immediate loss of warmth when Abby left her side.

"The doctors said not to eat anything too rich or too dense for a short while."

"Soup then?" Abby queried, "chicken noodle?" Ziva smiled and nodded her approval. Abby gave a cute little jump and clapped her hands together, suddenly business like again.

"Right, you stay here on the couch and I'll quickly throw some together. Nanny Scuito gave me some brilliant soup recipes, so you're in for a treat Miss David." The israeli nodded again, and Abby floated off into her black and red tiled kitchen. She'd never really been much of a chef (she lived on a diet of caffeine and instant noodles, so there was never any need to learn how to cook) but she promised to herself that this would be the best batch of chicken and noodle soup in the world. She began to pull pots out of her cupboards at random and tossed some packets of noodles out of her pantry and onto the bench. After consulting Nanny Scuito's recipe she roughly chopped some vegetables, dropped them in a saucepan along with some oil and began to heat them, praying she was doing everything right. The recipe said that the next step was to add chicken stock to the mix, so she turned to her pantry to get some out.

"Abby," Ziva said quietly. The goth, who had her head buried in one of her cupboards, jumped about a foot and hit her head on one of the shelves. She swore profusely and bscked out of the cupboard both hands clutching the top of her head.

"Zivaaaa," she whined, "I told you to wait in the lounge room."

"Sorry," Ziva said, submissively bowing her head. It was at that moment that Abby realised there was something very wrong. Ziva's face was pale and her hands were all shaky.

"What's wrong?" Abby asked frantically, her tone changing from annoyed to concerned in a heartbeat. Ziva sighed.

"Nothing really, it is silly."

"Zi," Abby growled threateningly, "spill or no soup for you." Ziva gave a weak smile.

"I don't like being alone," she confessed, staring at her sock clad feet. "I thought I would only want to be alone, but when there is no one there it is very hard to distract yourself from..." she left the sentence hanging, but Abby understood what she was getting at.

"You can help me if you want," she suggested. "Keeping busy might be a good way to not think about everything." Ziva nodded gratefully and entered the kitchen properly, squinting down at the recipe.

"We need pasta," she announced. "Do you have some?"

"In the cupboard," Abby confirmed, jerking her head in the direction of the pantry. "Watch your head though, the shelves are at an awkward height."

"Watch my head?" Ziva questioned as she started to rummage for the pasta. "I cannot see my own head though, Abby. Unless of course I use a mirror, but still... I don't understand." Abby contemplated the expression for awhile.

"You're right," she decided, "it doesn't make sense. I don't understand either."

After that conversation the two women lapsed into a comfortable silence. Ziva, apparently, was an excellent cook, and fated awhile Abby ended up just standing back and watching as her friend worked her culinary magic. The soup was finished in no time, and Abby decided that it smelt delicious. Ziva ladled it into two bowls then handed one to Abby, smiling. The goth noticed that she was no longer pale and shaking, and deemed the activity as a success. She shoved a massive spoonful of the soup into her mouth and her tastebuds melted and exploded at once. It was delicious, maybe even better than Nanny Scuito made it!

"Ziva," she moaned in between ladelling the glorious liquid into her mouth, "this is so good!" Ziva lauged and made to reply, but the phone rung suddenly and cut her off. Abby frowned. Who would be ringing her at this hour? Normally, she would have just let it ring, but a glance at her friend told her that the sound was making the tightly strung Israeli nervous. Abby reluctantly set down her bowl of soup and grabbed the phone. If it was a telemarketer she swore... The person on the other end of the phone spoke and her eyes widened. She lowered the phone from her ear and silently handed it to Ziva, who was already looking alarmed.

"Hello?" Ziva said nervously into the phone.

"Shalom Ziva," the voice of Eli David replied.

 **Sorry for the cliffhanger and the short, filler-ish chapter. I promise the next one will be a bit more substantial! Thanks for reading, and as ever please make sure to leave a review!**


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